Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Psycho, let's go! Get yer ass up!" The banging and Bear's yelling right outside our suite door would be enough to piss me off, but the fucking siren going off like we've been thrown back to the fifties and the threat of imminent nuclear attack makes me murderous.

"What the hell is that? Are we being bombed?" Cherry is now wide awake, eyes bulging with concern. To be fair, in all the years I've been here, that sound has only gone off whenever we've tested it and there's no fucking way Prez ordered a test at—reaching out to the bedside table as I swing my legs around in a hurry, I tap my phone and look at the time—three-fifteen in the fucking morning? Not even he would be that anal about security.

"Hurry the fuck up, man! Let's go!" Shaking off the sleep from my murky brain, I face Mackenzie and place a palm to the side of her face.

"It'll stop in a second, as soon as we're gone. Sleep, okay?" Under my touch, I can feel her head beginning to shake, probably protesting or on the verge of telling me she wants to go with me.

Ain't happening. Not now, not ever.

In one smooth move, I have my jeans over my hips before buckling my belt and grabbing my shoes and socks. I don't bother putting my boxers on but I do grab my sweatshirt that I threw on the back of the chair last night.

"But what if…" Before she even finishes that phrase, I"m in her face, kissing her lips like she's the most precious thing in my world.

Because that's exactly what she is.

"Go back to sleep. Ninja will keep you both company." I know she wants to protest, she needs to fight me on this, but no fucking way. "I have to go."

Making it impossible for her to dress or run after me—not that she could without suffering the physical consequences—I kiss her so quickly I don't have time to actually taste her and I fucking hate it.

"Psycho, goddammit!" Fucking Bear.

With my hand on the knob, I pull the door open and walk out, giving a quick glance and wink to my girl before shutting and locking it.

No doubt I'll get shit for that, too, but I don't fucking care. Her safety is everything.

"The fuck is happening?" Skipping and jumping I try to pull on my boots, not bothering with the laces just yet, as my sweatshirt bunches at the waist; it's hard keeping up with Bear's strides.

"Rocks Off has been attacked. We've got bodies and some of our girls have been raped." My juggling act comes to a stop. Who the fuck would mess with our strip club?

"What the fuck? Who?" One glare from my best friend and I know I'm holding him back. Bear does not like being late.

"Y'all get the low-down?" Crow joins us in the hall, slamming his door as we walk by and keeping up the pace without missing a beat.

"Someone's coming for us so it's time they find us." Bear has his no-nonsense voice going on, the one he uses when he's about to fuck shit up. Goddamn, I love the sound of that voice. It means I don't have to keep my crazy in check.

It takes us no time to reach the garages, suit up, and get the fuck off the property as a unit. Prez is with us and Hoops stays back to make sure no threats are coming to the compound. Wouldn't be the first time someone tried to distract us so we'd leave our home open to attacks.

We learned our lesson years ago, and with my girl in there, I wouldn't be leaving if it meant she was left alone and vulnerable.

As the Enforcer, I ride with Bear, bringing up the rear of our little party on wheels. All of the prospects stayed back at the compound with a few of our members, on Prez's orders. Bash stands guard at my door while Jonesy is at Vanessa's. A couple of the other members are keeping watch with Hoops around the perimeter of the compound.

The ride to Rocks Off is solemn, no doubt everyone is getting into the zone since whoever decided to attack our club was clearly trying to send us a message, or better yet, wanting to meet us head on.

The whole way there, though, the only thing on my mind is Mackenzie and this situation, this dead sea we're wading through. I'm not a fucking idiot; I know she's pissed off about me locking her up like she's some kind of biker fairy-tale princess locked away in the tower, but what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

In the last six months, I have lost her twice to poor decision-making on her part. Don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid enough to actually tell her that, but it doesn"t mean I don't have an opinion about it. One day, she'll look back on this time and realize I was doing everything I could think of to keep her safe… from herself and others.

It's not like it's easy on me, either. Jesus fucking Christ, every time she walks out of the bathroom naked as the day she was born, my dick makes my jeans shrink two sizes from its need to fuck. Or when she pushes her newly filled out tits in my face, making my mouth water like a fucking fountain, it kills me to hold myself back.

Me, the one nicknamed Psycho, doing everything I can to stay in control. Any other time, I wouldn't wait for her to tease me, I'd fuck her before she even had time to say "Good morning." Or "Good night." Or "Hello." Or any fucking thing.

So, yeah, maybe I'm pissed off, too, because I have to be the adult and I don't do well with delayed gratification. It's fucking hard, man. Impossible, even. But what's the alternative?

Losing her. Losing them. Not a fucking chance. I refuse to take any fucking risks when it comes to her. Those days are over. I'll even change her name to Rapunzel Kastellanos if I fucking have to.

All too soon, we arrive at Rocks Off and, sure enough, the parking lot is full with at least a dozen cars sporting the all-too-familiar orange or blue Empire State license plates. The sight throws me back to my youth when staying in the background and watching my brother rule his world was enough for me. I was young and cocky but I knew my place. I knew Yiannis, no matter that we shared the same blood, wasn't above cutting off my head if it meant he'd stand taller. The last time I was on New York soil, I'd just shot my brother in the head, refusing any association with his sex trafficking business. Had I been older, had more influence and contacts, I would have killed them all and saved every single one of those victims, but until that moment, I hadn't even known about any of it.

"Psycho, Bear, go in through the back and take out anyone who even looks at you the wrong way. These fuckers get no mercy." We grunt our understanding, the nostalgia that kept me up at night after I left the city completely forgotten. It's time to focus on keeping my brothers safe.

Keeping our heads down, we jog to the back of the club where the lack of music tells us everything we need to know. It's not a wild night gone wrong. This is as close to a hostage situation as we can get.

Once we reach the door, we flank either side and look at each other, using sign language we stole from the cop shows on TV to communicate. Between the nod toward the other side of the door and our fingers in a vee—the universal sign for see—we're basically saying, watch your back and let's go, motherfucker.

Mindful of the creaking hinges, we slink inside and pull the door closed without making too much noise. It's not like those assholes up front are whispering, either. Booming voices full of threats and insults are the only things I can hear, all wrapped in the unmistakable dropping of the R and elongated vowels.

Fucking New York Irish. I hated those motherfuckers when I lived there, but knowing they hurt, almost raped, one of our prospects and kidnapped my girl? Well, let's just say that someone's gonna die tonight just so I can feel like this whole show wasn't a waste of my precious time.

"Who the fuck do you think you are coming to my fucking town and hurting my people?" At well over six-five, Prez backs down to no one, and although I can't see him from my angle, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a gun to his forehead and still acted like he was in charge of the situation.

"Your two bitches killed my cousins. That's who I think I am, you hick piece of shit." Now, I consider myself to be a reasonable man—okay, maybe reasonable is a stretch—but I have my limits, and insulting my woman is a hard fucking line that motherfucker just crossed.

"Psy—" Bear doesn't finish his protest before I'm walking out from the back, gun raised and eyes wild with murderous intent, heading straight for that big fucker standing way too fucking close to my president.

"You got a problem with my girl, you talk to me about it, you fucking coward." There are about twenty guys in here and every one of them is now pointing their guns right at me, and every one of my brothers is aiming right back at them. From the corner of my eye, I see Prez shaking his head, no doubt sighing his frustration at me. "What's wrong, Paddy? The Italians kicked your sorry asses all over the streets of New Jersey and now you gotta come down here and play with the rurals?" I'll give him fucking rural. In fact, I'm so fucking pissed off that my own accent has made a come-back.

The guy looks vaguely familiar with his typical blond hair veering on red and light colored eyes that scream Irish descent. It's the birthmark running down the side of his nose and halfway up his cheek that gives him away, though. Back in the day, he was just a grunt doing all of the mob's dirty work. I guess now he's the boss of the grunts. What does that make him? King of the minions?

"Well, if it ain't the crazy one who's got no respect for blood." A few chuckles ring out, but instead of answering, I cock my head to the side and grin, showing all of my teeth like the fucking lunatic I'm rumored to be. My jaw is tight and my lips are so close to a snarl that I have no doubts I look feral.

"Hate to interrupt your little reunion here, but what the fuck do y'all want?" Sounds like Bear's had enough of niceties.

"Well, shit! The South is finally evolving." The guy who clearly gives off the leader vibe among his flock of sheep nods to Bear and that just fucking pisses me off.

"Aww, man. Just when I thought we were gettin' along, you went and played the race card." Bear and I share a mocking look, shrugging like it's no big deal, and before I even turn back around, I'm walking straight into the guy's personal space and placing the barrel of my gun flush against his forehead—Bear right behind me.

"My Prez asked you a fucking question, O'Toole or O'Brien or O'Connor. Did I get one right?" All guns are cocked and loaded but the Irish clown raises his hand, ordering them to hold their fire.

"All right, all right. Enough blood has been shed tonight." Like they weren't the ones doing the honors. "We're just here to send a message and you know what they say about the messenger?" I'm about two seconds away from shooting it in the fucking brain. "Lay off the Beauforts or else what happened here tonight will just be a tiny sampling of what we'll do to this entire fucking town. You get me?"

Gone is the fake humor and relaxed persona. This guy is all business now, and his job is to spill blood.

Pressing my gun to his forehead, I communicate my distaste for his ultimatum without saying a damn word.

"It don't take a fucking genius to see we outgun you by half but, hey, by all means, start a fucking war." He looks straight at me when he speaks, and it's then I know my comment about Marco Mancini's men razing their numbers definitely hit a nerve. Who knows, maybe this is the extent of it. Unfortunately, without the comfort of our other charters having our backs tonight, he's right. We'd all die in seconds flat.

A year ago, I would have taken my chances. Now, though? Not fucking happening. I've got a Cherry and a Peanut who need me alive and kicking.

Like he doesn't have a care in the world, the prick takes a step back and slowly walks out, taking his fucking fanfare along with him.

No one talks until every one of those cars are gone.

When the crunching tires fade into the night, I turn to Prez, lips pressed against my teeth, and seethe. "If Beaufort is arming himself with the Irish mob, that means he's got shit to hide and it has nothing to do with his son beating up a local girl when she refused to suck his cock." My girl was on to something and that thought only makes my fear of her getting hurt amp up to a fucking million.

"Yeah, looks like that kidnapping wasn't random." We all agree at Prez's words when soft cries echo from down the hall. Fuck, these girls need to be seen by our doc or maybe even go to the hospital.

"What're we gonna do about the bodies? We callin' the deputy or are we gonna clean it up ourselves?" Bear's focus on the dead prompts me to look around and from where I stand, I can see at least three. Fuck.

"Until our charters get here, we can't take these assholes on by ourselves." Prez looks at me, then Sledge. "You two get the girls to the hospital. Stay close to the truth, we ain't got nothin' to hide but don't mention the Irish." His hard gaze lands on the girls, one by one, before he delivers the message to our club manager, Candi. "Y'all don't know who they were. Not locals, never seen ‘em before."

Smart. It's easier to lie when you're close to the truth.

"Prez, I've got a guy in New York who owes me a favor and he happens to be the only one who can easily stop these assholes." Maybe I could even take a trip up to The City and have a sit down with Mancini so he can help us get this scum out of our state.

"Yeah, do that. Can't hurt. Bear, call Shipman. Same story. We got a call that someone attacked our club but we got here too late to know who it was. As the deputy, she'll make sure there's an investigation and keep our noses clean." Good thing she still thinks we're part of the solution and not the problem in this town, or else she'd be a pain in our asses just like the sheriff.

By the time we get our shit done, the sun is firmly taking up space in the sky and I'm fucking exhausted. Most of the girls had minimal cuts and bruises, but the three who were raped will need a fuckload more time to heal the invisible wounds. The whole time Sledge and I were helping the girls, my mind kept wandering back to Mackenzie, to her suffering, her numbness. How I wished I could wipe her slate clean and take all the pain away. And as we step out of the hospital, there's only one thing I want to do… go home and wrap myself around my Cherry Pie.

It's closer to brunch than it is breakfast when we arrive at the compound, but I grab two plates from the kitchen and throw an appreciative wink at Sabrina when she tries to chastise me for running away with the food.

Anxiety boils low in my gut as I approach the suite, knowing damn well Mackenzie is about to rip me a new one, and contrary to popular belief, a good ramming is only enjoyable when there's a fuckload of lube. I suspect I'm getting it dry as a fucking desert today.

The lock is barely disengaged when the door flies open and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed monster is screaming at me for being such a dick.

Not gonna lie, I'm hoping food will distract her. It seems to work pretty well these days.

"What the fuck was that all about, Aleko? You're locking me in now? Did you ever stop and think that maybe my mother would need me? What if she fell? What if I fucking fell? What if I needed to help Spencer? Did you even think that I. Am. Not. Your. Fucking. Prisoner?"

Deep breath in, slow breath out.

"Babe, Bash was on the other side of the door with the key." I'd pat myself on the back for keeping my calm but I'm not sure how long it'll last. My only move is to make sure the smell of breakfast meets her nostrils before she goes in for round two.

"Is that bacon?" Bingo. I love hormones and pregnancy. Placing the plate on the table, I quickly wash my hands and return to the sitting area.

"Yeah, baby. Come." My hand pats my lap as I fall onto the sofa chair like the weight of the world is pressing right down on me. "Eat."

Eyes darting from me—angry and fueled up for a fight—to the plate of deliciousness, I don't miss the longing written across her lips as she licks them like a fucking panther before it attacks.

When she takes her first step forward on her crutches, I know I've won this battle, but the war is far from over.

"I'm still mad at you but also, I'm hungry." As though on cue, her belly rumbles and my grin is so wide, it cracks away all the bullshit from earlier. She's here, sitting on my lap, one arm around my neck, as I take a piece of bacon and place it at the entrance of her delicious mouth.

"Open up, baby. Let me feed you." Fuck, just saying those words gets me hard but I can't… every time I think about ramming my dick deep inside her tight little pussy, I have nightmares of our baby suffocating and dying. Like me fucking his mother will be the death of him.

Intellectually, I fucking know better. I know sex won't hurt him. Hell, the doctor told us it was fine, great, even.

The idea of being the cause of any harm to her makes my blood burn like gasoline inside my veins.

"Aleko?" I blink at the sound of my name.

"Yeah, beautiful?" Fuck, she's so fucking stunning it blinds me.

"If it's gonna take you two hours to give me bacon and pancakes, then I'm gonna go ahead and feed myself." The serious tone in her voice, like I've personally offended her for zoning out there for a second, has a laugh exploding from my lungs.

"You're cute when you're hangry." I tap the tip of her nose and go in for a deep, soulful kiss where I forget that she's pregnant with my baby. That she's prone to making life-threatening decisions. That there are literal mobsters in our town with their guns aimed at us. I forget it all as my tongue sweeps into her mouth and my fear dissipates with every exhale.

All too soon, she pulls back and narrows her eyes at me.

Sliding my fork along the plate, I scoop up some eggs and bring them to her mouth. "As hungry as I am, I have words that you need to hear. You ever lock me up in here again, I promise you that I will walk right off this property with my middle finger high and proud." Right. As if I'd ever let her do that, but I'm not stupid enough to argue, am I? "So, while you fill my tummy, tell me what happened tonight."

And just like that, a cold shower falls over my head as the anxiety returns and every protective bone in my body goes on high alert.

I tell her everything. The Irish, the Beauforts, and their thirst for revenge because they killed the two guards. Every word I say has her eyes growing wider and wider, and to my surprise, her appetite doesn't even take a hit as she finishes off her plate, licking her lips like a little kitten.

"Guess we need to get the shovels ready, huh? I'm not waiting around for them to ambush me." Narrowing my gaze at her, I speak through clenched teeth.

"You're not fucking going anywhere. I'll deal with those fuckers, you stay and heal."